The Fiddler's Secret (24 page)

“You're looking for Harriet? She's been gone since early
September. Can't tell you where. She wrote a book, you know. Maybe she's traveling, talking to people about St. Paul.”

Libby groaned. Her feet dragging, she headed back to the boat.

The rain started as a mist so fine that at first Libby thought she was seeing things. By the time she walked up the gangplank, her coat felt heavy with water. The wind still came from the south, but Libby had no doubt that in Minnesota Territory a November rain would soon mean ice.

Caleb was the next one to return, then Peter, and finally Pa. Long before the two hours were up, they gathered around the wood stove in the main cabin. All of them stretched out their hands toward the stove, but the heat did little to warm their hearts. Not one of them had learned anything about Annika.

Libby knew there was nothing more to say. The look in her father's face shook Libby to the center of her being.

Soon the chief engineer came into the cabin. “The temperature dropped ten degrees in the last hour. If we don't go now, we'll be here for the winter.”

Having no choice but to leave St. Paul, Pa straightened his shoulders. “We'll leave the minute you're ready.”

When the engineer hurried out, Pa turned to Libby and the boys. As though forcing himself to remember what was needed, he looked at each of them. “Thank you, Peter,” he signed.

Peter wrapped his arms around Pa's waist and hugged him. As Pa stretched out his hand, Caleb put his own hand over Pa's. When her father's arm went around Libby's shoulder, she gave him the tightest hug she could. Then he hurried away, and Libby knew he wanted to be alone.

Going outside, she sat down on the wide steps at the front of the boat. Soon deckhands took in the lines, and the
Christina
slipped out into the river.

Libby stared at the black waters of the Mississippi. Her long wool stockings and her warmest coat, scarf, and mittens did little good today. The cold crept into her bones. Yet the ache she felt inside was worse.

Once again she watched the pan ice floating down the river. The giant lily pads seemed larger now. Crossing her arms, Libby hugged herself, but she could not keep away her fear.
Where is Annika?

In answer to her question, Libby again remembered the verse Pa gave them the day Annika visited their class. With all her heart Libby tried to believe the words her mother had written in her Bible. Instead, Libby cried out in her spirit.
All things, God? How can You possibly bring something good out of something this awful?

The cold rain slanted at an angle now, reaching under the overhang of the deck above. Libby felt glad there were no immigrants there, no children trying to stay warm. The empty deck made her lonesome for past friends—the runaway slave Emma and her baby, little Henry. The German immigrant Elsa. Jordan and his sister Serena. And now Annika.

Most of all, Libby's heart ached for Pa. With her hurt for him came more anger toward God.
How could You let Annika get lost? How can You be a good God, a kind God, when You treat Pa this way? All things, God? How can You possibly bring something good out of something this awful?

Libby was shaking with cold when Caleb found her there. “Come inside where it's warm,” he said. He led her to the large
main cabin. As Libby huddled close to the stove, he asked, “What's really bothering you, Libby?”

As always, Libby felt afraid to talk. Then she remembered her promise to Caleb.
Friends tell each other the things that are important to them
.

“It's all my fault!” Libby wailed.

“What's your fault?”

“That Annika is lost, that Pa had to leave without seeing her.” Starting with the words she had overheard in August, Libby explained. “Annika told Pa that I wasn't ready for a mother. She said if she came on board now, it would seem as if I snapped my fingers and
poof!
Like magic I had a mother.”

When Libby finished talking, Caleb's eyes had that teasing look Libby knew too well. “Maybe Annika was right. Maybe there's a few things you need to change. Like hiding around a corner listening to your pa and Annika.”

“But I
can't
change that now!” Caleb's words upset Libby even more. “What if Pa
never
has the chance to get things straightened out? How can I live the rest of my life knowing that he lost Annika because of me?”

“Because of you?” Caleb asked. “Who do you think you are, God or something?”

Lifting her head, Libby tossed her curls. “Of course, I don't think I'm God!”

Caleb's voice changed, as if he really wanted to help. “Maybe you
weren't
ready for a new mother then. But you didn't cause the storm. And you didn't get Annika lost!”

Libby stared at him. “You said maybe I wasn't ready for a mother
then
. Does that mean I'm ready for a mother now?”

Caleb shrugged. “Maybe.”

Maybe
. Libby rolled the word around in her mind, then in her heart.
Caleb said maybe
.

Caleb leaned forward. “Libby, wherever Annika is, God is with her.”

With his words, the weight Libby had carried since August dropped from her. For the first time all day, she felt warm with hope. Her angry questions changed to a prayer letting God in.
Won't You help us? Please, won't You help us?

As the
Christina
continued downriver, Pa called them together for school. When they gathered around the table in his cabin, Libby studied her father's face.
He needs something to think about besides Annika
.

In the small upper room it was growing colder all the time. Libby's breath hung in the frosty air. Whenever she turned a page, she needed to take off her mitten.

Like the rest of them, Pa wore his warmest jacket, gloves, and scarf. He looked exhausted, something Libby never saw. He seemed to be walking in his sleep.

Pa had barely begun teaching when the wind rattled the windows. Like a spray of small stones, bits of ice struck the glass. In that moment Libby heard the change. The rain had turned to sleet, pelting the glass. But the sleet also brought Pa back to his usual self.

“We'll have to make a run for it,” he said as calmly as if he faced an ice-bound Lake Pepin every day. “Take your books down to the main cabin. Push a table closer to the stove. It's too cold for you here.”

As the boys left the cabin, Libby stood up and walked over to her father. “Pa,” she said. “‘They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as
eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.'”

Tears welled up in his eyes. “Isaiah 40:31. How did you know?”

“Caleb told me.” Reaching around her father's chest, Libby gave the biggest bear hug she could. Then she patted his back the way he did for her when she was a little child.

When Pa stood back he looked into her eyes. “You're grown up now, Libby. You're all grown up.”

A moment later he picked up his captain's hat, set it straight on his head. At the door he turned back. “Thank you, Libby. Thank you.”

When Libby stepped out on deck, the wind had swung around, coming from the northwest. Soon after they passed Red Wing, the Mississippi River widened into a lake twenty-two miles long and one to three miles wide. Because the current was slower, Lake Pepin always froze sooner than the river above or below it.

Behind the boat the river looked choppy, as troubled as Libby felt about their trip through the lake. Closer to shore and ahead of the
Christina
, the water was smooth, even glasslike. That look of glass told Libby the water was freezing.

Pushing aside her dread, she went into the large cabin. At first she managed to study. Then Libby began seeing water instead of pages filled with numbers. Though she tried hard, she couldn't shut out the frightening pictures that passed through her mind.

Closing her eyes, she tried to forget the boat she had seen last spring. Thrown by wind and ice against Pepin's shore, the
steamboat had leaned sideways and filled with water as passengers scrambled to get off.

Finally Libby put on her coat and wound a long scarf around her head and neck. Stepping outside again, she stood at the railing. The sleet had stopped now, but a half-inch layer of ice had formed over the surface of Lake Pepin. As Caleb came to stand beside her, Libby asked, “It's closing in, isn't it?”

Caleb nodded as though not wanting to admit the truth.

“What if the ice catches us?”

“Don't ask,” he said. “You won't want to know.”

Then Libby remembered. Caleb had been with Pa last winter when the
Christina
was caught by unseasonable ice farther downriver. Pa seldom spoke about that time. Libby only knew that he had to have the hull rebuilt.

“This is only November thirteenth! People in St. Paul said that if the river closes, it's the earliest on record.”

Libby's words made Caleb impatient. “Records don't count,” he said, sounding more upset than he wanted to admit. “What counts is whether we get through safely.”

Standing there, Libby wondered if the ice had grown thicker even as they spoke. As she watched, the ship's carpenter crept out on the forward deck. At the starboard, or right, side of the boat, he dropped onto his stomach. There he looked down over the guards, the boards that extended out over the hull.

“What's he doing?” Libby asked.

“Checking for ice damage.”

A moment later the carpenter checked the port, or left, side of the boat and called to a deckhand. “It's taking her paint!”

Libby's stomach tightened. Like a young child, she wanted
to be with her father. “Let's go up to the pilothouse.”

On the side deck, sleet had coated the boards, making them slick. “Hang on,” Caleb warned as they started up the stairs.

Libby wrapped her mittens around the ice-coated railing as if her life depended on it. On the hurricane deck, she felt the full blast of the cold wind. There in the open, the ice was so slippery that Caleb dropped to his hands and knees. Libby followed him, crawling across the deck.

One after the other, they crept up the stairs to the pilothouse. Caleb opened the door with glass in the top half, and hung on with all his strength. While Libby crawled inside, he held the door against the draft, then closed it without breaking the glass.

Fletcher, the pilot, stood at the side of the great wheel with Pa next to him. Besides being owner of the
Christina
, Pa was also licensed as a pilot, but he helped only as needed. His quick smile welcomed Libby and Caleb. Then he turned once more to lock his gaze onto the lake ahead.

On the front side of the pilothouse, the hinged boards at the top and bottom of the opening were nearly closed against the weather. Pa and Fletcher peered through the narrow opening that remained. Glass windows filled the other three walls, but one whole side had iced over. Minute by minute, conditions were growing worse.

As Libby looked around, she saw the far shore of Lake Pepin along the eastern horizon. On the west and closer side, the land was stripped bare of trees, but not of rocks. Behind the
Christina
a narrow trail of black water showed where the boat had passed through, breaking the ice. Ahead, and growing
thicker by the hour, the ice stretched out as far as Libby could see.

Soon a deckhand came to the door. Holding it open long enough to talk to Pa, he said, “Carpenter says the ice is splintering the hull.”

Within minutes another crew member opened the door. “Engineer says there's ice in the buckets.”

“What's he talking about?” Libby whispered to Caleb.

“The wood planks on the paddle wheels. The buckets catch the water and send the boat forward.”

“And they're plugging up with ice?”

“Carrying too heavy a load.”

Pa turned to Libby. “If the ice breaks the paddle wheels, we can't move ahead, no matter how hard we try. We'll freeze into the lake.”

Libby swallowed hard. In her wildest imagination, she hadn't thought of something that terrible. The
Christina
frozen all winter in the great open stretches of Lake Pepin?

Yet there was something even worse. In the spring breakup, the
Christina
would have no protection. Caught by tons of floating ice, the boat would be thrown up on shore like matchsticks!

CHAPTER 19